Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Even the smallest of snippets from your life, the kind that flash through lightning quick at the most surprising of times, can end up becoming your strongest memories--though they never were intended to be. Passages of blurred depictions, some without feeling attached, just a visual lasting barely half a second, but even so--staying imprinted in our minds.

What gives these moments, that particular brief scene, the longevity to become what we call up, when someone asks, "What is your earliest memory?" The further back you reach, the less pushing and shoving there is for what is sent forth, to play over again and again. The more your mind falls to a specific memory, the easier that same one will be the one that repeatedly surfaces by default.

I don't want that.

I don't want the automatic, to lose all of the other that I know I can remember if I work hard and intentionally dig through the mental films stowed away. I want to find those early memories before they disappear; I want to make them strong, so I have the beginning pages of my life.

I've been staying up late, while in bed, trying to go back and retrieve what happened in chapters one and two. It helps if I begin sorting through by calling up categories from the buried, long held closed drawers and drawers of what my eyes and ears and heart have been witness to. First pretty dress, first buckle shoes, first tricycle, first trip to the water. I begin with a roll call list of firsts, and the images timidly swim before my mind's eye, like a child peeking out from behind a curtain.

The memories are skittish, unsure if it's them I'm looking for, but over a few nights' time, they become confident--yes, they tell themselves, she wants us. I don't stay up to fight with them, to tell them they're not my choice of what I want to see. I let them decide. They tell me, this is what you asked for.

Something keeps these memories in my banks, it's the something that tells me these are mine.

I'm going to sit quietly again tonight, with the lights out, my fingers pressed against my eyes, while the called out images tentatively peer out, growing bolder as they sense my acceptance. It'll take awhile for them to believe that I'm happy to see them--they've stayed away because for so long that's what I told them to do; dismissing them as annoying, irritating, intruding.

I trust them now; these visual records. They are insightful, legitimate, as they wave before me like wisps. There is no weight of judgment that comes with their appearance. In the still night, I invitingly extend my long overdue hand out to them--praying they remember me. I am grateful they still recognize the girl who abandoned them--and that I am no longer a stranger.

I've had a few shrinks in my time. They all ask the same question, "What is your earliest memory?" The first time I responded, "I don't know, 8, 9?" I remember the shrink was horrified. She thought I was kidding. In all honesty, I couldn't think of anything that I hadn't seen repeatedly on our home movies. So I lowered the age to 4,5. And she still looked surprised. It turns out that many people have memories from being 19 months old, or 2 years. I was so shocked. I asked her if that was normal, and she said it was. It was me who wasn't!

Suzy, try to remember more. Do pictures help? There is so much in there, hidden that tell us about how we came to be who we are. I know your mother was fabulous and your father a giant man of a memory.

Suzy, don't feel bad. I have a hard enough time remembering things in my twenties. There's a brief few from below the age of ten. Some of us repress more than we probably should but you do what you have to do. I'm always amazed when talking to someone in their 70s and 80s who can recall so many things from being a child. If you want to remember try but don't beat yourself up for not remembering.

Keep doing what you're doing. When my dad passed away, the saddest thing wasn't just losing him, it was losing memories. I continued to look at pictures, films, slides (that's how young I was)trying to hold onto everything. Somehow the memories do fade which breaks our heart...it's the harsh reality of it... but one thing prevailed. My dad was always there...in the wind..in my mind...I could hear his voice and his advice would ring true during the hardest times in my life. For that, I was grateful. Every year on his birthday, I plant a tree in my yard in memory of him. I love the forest. :)We all grieve in our own way. Keep your support system around you. Hugs and love sent your way.

I hope you find what you are looking for, or it finds you. I confuse what I actually remember with what I have seen in pictures or the stories I've heard told. I worry more that I will lose the memories of my kids when they were little, what they looked like, smelled like, how their little voices sounded. It was all moving so fast then, you know?

Shannon and Momma Fargo: I fear this, too, that it will all be gone. I don't want to lose that--there's so much there, comfort can be found in the oddest moments we've recorded. And once I began concentrating on recalling everything, I was surprised at how much is stored away. xo

I am hoping that you can retrieve those memories. They are there hidden away in the deep recesses. I was able to retrieve my memories through song. I needed the soundtrack to call up the visual memories.

I have never been able to remember things from my life other than things from my adult life. I keep wondering if something terrible happen that I have blocked them out. I don't think so. My husband has an incredible memory. Truly it goes far and above most other people.I also know that when a person gets much older....they lose their short term memory but their long time memories come to the forefront. I actually look forward to this. One more thing. I feel that everything we have learned and experienced are there in differnt levels of our brain and that is why they pop up at random times, surprising us.

Alexandra, it's amazing that you even thought to do this. Those early memories clearly represent so much of our history, and yet, it's so rare that I reflect on those early impressions, too. This is so incredibly important, so I'm glad you have inspired me to do the same. There are some things that seem so far away, but I imagine that with the help of some pictures and stories from family members, those memories will piece together slowly.

My husband's earliest memory is from when he was 14 months old. When he was about 8 and relayed the memory to his mother in full detail, she was floored, initially in disbelief. But she knew she hadn't told anyone but the police what happened that night so he genuinely remembered it. In contrast, I can't remember anything before kindergarten. I have tried. Oh, how I've tried. I look at pictures of my sisters and me, who I assumed I wasn't close to when I was a toddler because I couldn't remember being with them. But every picture shows us together ALWAYS. And still, I got nothin'.

Memories tend to come to me when I'm not searching for them. They just pop up on their own. And living with someone who has lost so many of his memories reminds me of how important it is to keep record of these snippets when they come up.

Memories are so unclear to me much of the time. Sometimes there are things I swear I remember in the most vivid of details only to be told later that I wasn't even there when the event occurred. It's a problem I have, converting other people's stories into my own childhood memories.

Jack's earliest memory was of being 10 months old. We tested hhim on it-- no pictures existed-- but he was spot on. As for me, I don't remember much until grade school. Love that you wrote this beautiful post about this. Of course I am terrified of losing my memories.... xoxo

I am always amazed at what memories find themselves important enough to jump out in vivid color. Then again, I guess in the story of each of our own lives, every single piece is important somehow. Enjoy what your mind has to show next.

You've all been so kind to me these past almost 2 wks. I can't believe that Sunday, it will be 2 wks that my nephew is gone. Thank you, for floating me, and and keeping me going, with your encouragement. You don't know what it means to have this place to write, and to connect. Soon, I hope soon, that I can do the same for all of you. Slowly, my mental stamina is coming back. Thank you.

It's funny to read about this, because I've been doing a similar exercise but of more recent events. After a recent break-up, I've been reviewing in my mind at night, cementing the good memories in my head so I can call them up in near-physical form. I want to hold on to all that has been good in my life.

This is so beautifully written as only you can do Alexandra. I've been thinking of you so much these days and yet haven't been hear to read as much as I wish I could be. I'm thinking of you as you sift through the memories. xo

Beautiful. You pulled me in from the very beginning, "Even the smallest of snippets from your life, the kind that flash through lightning quick at the most surprising of times, can end up becoming your strongest memories--though they never were intended to be."

I am having trouble remembering things even when my kids were young (let alone my own childhood). I sometimes only remembered that we'd visited a place when I was confronted with a picture as evidence. It worries me that I'd forgot about my kids if we ever lose all the pictures...